Backlash
by eric-idle-rules
Summary: Cena/Orton - Takes place right after their match at Backlash, it's mainly just chatting and snuggling in the locker room


Randy walked into the locker room after his match where he saw John sitting on the bench, obviously waiting for him

Randy walked into the locker room after his match where he saw John sitting on the bench, obviously waiting for him. John, upon seeing Randy enter, stood up and pulled him into a huge hug, rubbing small circles on the back of his head. "You looked great out there."

"When don't I look good?" Randy leaned into the touch.

"Even though you lost, and we're no longer in the Age of Orton."

Randy let out a dramatic sigh, "Well, what's that line from that movie? 'Nothing gold can stay.'"

"That's Robert Frost, dumbass."

"Yeah, but wasn't it used in a movie?"

John pulled back from the hug, but left his hand on Randy's head, "It was said in The Outsiders. Which was a book before it was a movie."

"I knew that. Ok, well, if you don't like that example, how about that song, umm," Randy though, then started singing, "They say that all good things must end someday."

John continued, "Autumn leaves must fall. That would be Summer Song by Chad and Jeremy. You're taking your loss very well, baby, I'm so proud of you," he said, kissing Randy's cheek.

"Yeah, at least it's not you prancing around with the belt."

John pushed Randy, who ended up sliding off the bench, landing hard on his butt on the floor. "I don't prance, you bastard." This caused a few of the other guys to turn towards the two, laughing at Randy's expense.

Randy stood up and began rubbing his ass, "I hate you." He looked around and added to the rest, "That wasn't funny."

The other guys laughed again before turning back to their own business.

"No, you love me," John said, pulling Randy into his lap. He wrapped his arms around Randy's waist and breathed in deep in his neck, smelling a scent that was distinctly Randy. "And it was pretty funny."

"Maybe if it happened to someone else."

"Well, it's like the song goes, 'Everybody plays the fool, there's no exception to the rule.'"

"How come we're always comparing our lives to songs?" Randy asked, cocking his head and turning around to glace at John.

John cocked his own head and thought about it for a couple seconds before replying, "They just fit so well."

"You know, when I saw you earlier tonight, when you were talking to Jimmy, I wanted so bad to come up behind you, and just wrap my arms around you."

"Oh, and I wanted you to, so badly," John told him, pulling him closer, linking their hands.

"And I wanted to take that hat off, kiss the top of your head, nuzzle my face into your hair." John sighed, and Randy continued, "But, I didn't want to look into your eyes. No, because I didn't want to try my self control. Oh, but then I did. I looked into those eyes of yours, and I didn't want to tear myself away. God, I didn't want to kick you. Hell, I would have been a happy, happy man if you just stayed on top of me when you tackled me outside the ring."

John grabbed Randy's hand and brought it up to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back. "Yeah, that certainly would have been nice. I would have loved to stay there all night long. The fangirls, hell, maybe a few fanboys, would have gone crazy seeing that."

Randy stood up, and pulled John up with him. He looked around and noticed that everyone had left the locker room, "Hey, maybe our mushy talk drove everyone out of here."

"Maybe. So," John said, running his thumb over Randy's, "want to head back to the hotel? I'm beat."

"Me too. Let's go. So, who gets to drive? I mean, usually we just do winner drives, but, well…"

John thought about it, then said, "One of two things we can do. Either you can drive, since, even though you lost, it was still after me, or we could just go old school on this mother fucker and rock, paper, scissor it," he finished with a grin.

Randy replied, "Gotta go old school. Best two out of three. Ready?"

Simultaneously the boys said, "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!" John showed rock while Randy had scissors. "Oh! That's one for me!"

Randy smirked, "You just got lucky."

The second try both had scissors, and on the third go, John did paper while Randy did rock. "Shit."

"Ha! I won!" John shouted, sticking his tongue out at Randy.

Randy just smiled and shook his head. "That's because I let you win."

"Riiiight. Come on, let's go. I'll decide what we're listening to on the ride back while we walk to the car. Let's see, we have so much to pick from. How about the Allman Brothers?"

"Oh, no."

"No? Willie Nelson? Waylon Jennings? Hank Williams, Senior, of course. Roger Miller? I got it. I'll just put my country music playlist on shuffle. That'll solve all my problems."

Randy bumped John's shoulder, "Not all."

"Fuck you."

"Maybe later. Once I have the thought of the dreaded country music out of my head."

John bumped him back as they stood before the rental car, "You must have grown up on that, though."

"Yeah, it's all my dad ever played. God, I got so fucking sick of it."

"Well, you need to learn to appreciate a wider mix of music, baby. Just think of this car ride as your music edification."

"Great," Randy said, sarcasm dripping from his voice as Dolly Parton's 9 to 5 began. "This is going to be a long car ride."


End file.
